The Same Souls
by The Spork
Summary: The war is beginning and Harry isn't ready, barely able to keep going day after day. The Slytherin house is silently being shred apart, no one trusting anyone. Draco, Ginny, Blaise Zambini and Harry have their work cut out for them. technicaL DIFFICULTIES
1. Chapter One

It may only be the beginning of our story, but already things are not as we know them, so here our chronicler must explain what has, thus far, been altered.  
  
Harry James Potter, sixteen years old, repressed anger from his previous year (gained by his upbringing and sexual frustration) has fizzled out into sheer depression. The boy who lived has since been drowning himself in the beds of all the girls of Hogwarts who will have him, and has become skilled in the arts of bedroom pleasure. His friends, Hermione and Ron have been carefully sidestepping each other's beds in embarrassment, and have been attempting to pull aforementioned boy who wishes he hadn't lived, from this slump.  
  
Ginny Weasley has taken advantage of her brother's distraction to have slid amongst a good deal of Gryffindor house, but seeing only her own bedspread, and the pages of one of her dear great aunts' cookbooks. Said books were banned from publishing but still famous among men as horror stories of the purest evil. Not actually dark arts, at least from a woman's point of view, just revenge, or a decent threat.  
  
Draco Malfoy has become a bedroom legend in some circles, and has been feeding Dumbledore any information his father manages to slip him. The poor boy truly spites dear Lucius, but anyone would hold a healthy fear of the madman who controls his inheritance. He holds a deep lust bordering on something bigger for the next character to be mentioned.  
  
Blaise Zambini, a young girl returned from her four years at Durmstrang at the start of the war to sit comfortably again in the Slytherin house. Long strait black hair framing a startlingly pale elfin face and haunting slate blue eyes and a decent-looking body for what can be seen through her robes, it's a wonder even the Slytherins avoid even catching her eye, sans Draco, whom is a good friend to her. Blaise dearest seems to know a great deal about the big picture of life itself, and what's with her weird pets? A raven and a cat, at least one of them always at her side, both sleek and black with emerald eyes to rival the Boy who Lived. She feels mild lust toward Draco but would never see him as more than a confidant.  
  
~*~  
  
Slytherin House has found itself crumbling at its very foundations. Contrary to popular belief, Slytherins do not spend their spare time sacrificing cute furry animals to the Dark Lord, in fact only a small percentage are truly Death Eaters, and only slightly larger are from death eater families and very few actually wanted or want to be any of the above. This said, Slytherins feed on bonds of trust and fierce loyalty to friends who help them rise to success. Slytherin House no longer has any trust to feed on.  
  
Any group of people larger than two is suspicious. No one truly knows who is or who wants to be a Deatheater and who is feeding information to Dumbledore. In short, old friends are forced to stay apart for their own safety, but separation strains trust and feeds suspicion and paranoia. The Slytherin King, Draco Malfoy is suddenly the biggest enigma in the place. Not even the Deatheaters know who else is a deatheater, and those who feed information to the light aren't always trusted to know who might be their ally.  
  
Draco Malfoy, who everyone outside Slytherin house KNOWS is a deatheater, is currently wandering the castle of Hogwarts aimlessly, feeling as close to safe as he's ever felt in his life. Not that he'd admit it. His Father, recently escaped for the third time from Azkaban has hardly dared to contact his son in any way, but what little information has reached Draco is all well recorded in Dumbledore's office. Narcissa Malfoy was killed for tipping off Arthur Weasley concerning the safety of Diagon Alley. The result being Diagon Alley suffered a few scratches while Knockturn Alley is in partial ruin.  
  
Draco, thus far, has only saved, about, ten lives so far, and is somewhat contented to be far away from his house and their fear that seems to hang in the air in the same way that bricks don't (without magical assistance). His only Ally was found in Blaise Zambini, who he met only once before Hogwarts, and he doesn't remember it. They had been rather good friends in first year, attracted by each other's sharp wits and sharper tongues. They made an almost frightening team, their only real difference held by Draco having a wide reputation and Blaise keeping a low profile. They had kept in off and on contact after she had been forcibly transferred to Durmstrang. Once she had returned, she had truly shocked him.  
  
Draco paused, hearing footsteps i the corridors not his own. He leaned lazily against a pillar and awaited this other wanderer. He had a few guesses as to whom might be wandering the castle at night, but few of them were pleasant, and to his luck it was among the few. A dark girl, small of frame, almost delicate if not for the air of cold strength she seemed to hold, strolled easily around the corner, into Draco's line of sight. She was long and slender, lithe and easy to the eye if not too shapely save for her endowments. She shook her long black hair from her face like a silk veil, and smirked slightly, her slate blue eyes flickering when they spotted him.  
  
Draco returned her smirk thrice fold and nodded a greeting.  
  
"Blaise, m'dear." Draco purred, she had changed so deeply since first year, from the tiny dark girl with a hair pin trigger and defences greater that the 'Area 51' of the Dept. of Mysteries in the Ministry (not where Harry went).  
  
"Dragon." She acknowledged, shifting a bag she had slung over one shoulder, the other shoulder occupied by a cat.  
  
"Blaise dear, "He began, his eyes playful. "You know for a fact it's far after curfew. I should punish you for being out this late, so very alone."  
  
"I also happen to know even prefects are sent abed at this hour, My Dragon, I do believe even Filch has fallen prey to slumber" She purred knowingly. The black cat, small, sleek and statue-esq seemed amused.  
  
"Fallen prey to slumber, or a young witch who was nearly caught a wandering?" Draco warned.  
  
"I think it best we both keep quiet about such things lest one of us fall prey as well." She teased and began walking again, followed by the silver-haired dragon. Draco smiled faintly; she had changed indeed.  
  
"Blaise, Blaise. You hurt me with such threats!" The tall boy sighed in mock-hurt.  
  
"Draco." She snorted in play. Only outside their house could they be so playful. Only alone could they seem so human. Slytherin had come to a silent agreement, that before the rest of the world they should appear as they always had, keeping what little house pride they had.  
  
"What? Is it so much to play a fool when before the rest of the world I'm The animate ice sculpture?"  
  
"Not always, such, to a good deal of the female population of the school you're a sex god." She teased. Draco looked somewhere between awkward and proud.  
  
"Yes, though the same could be said for Potter" Draco said the name as though its sound had disgusted his very tongue. Blaise sniggered. "Oh, yes, and the rest of them are under fourth year, armed with Old Emily Weasley's cookbooks, or you." He shuddered. "Those accursed cookbooks!"  
  
Blaise laughed. Draco felt a faint fluttering sensation in his stomach at the sound. She very rarely actually laughed, but when she did it was like rose petals in cold flowing water, soft but brings to mind beauty, thorns and blood. He was fond of the sound; it was almost familiar.  
  
"Dragon, you are amusing." She sniggered. Draco decided to make her laugh again, or try. He snorted in mock-anger, and would have moved on, but she had already began sniggering again.  
  
"What?" He frowned slightly, even that damn cat looked amused. "I'm not that funny."  
  
"You actually are." The girl teased. "You're amusing much the way cats are."  
  
"I am not!" Draco had a cat, and knew for a fact they could be quite entertaining, mostly for their dignity, which was usually false.  
  
"Of course not, you have far to much dignity." She teased.  
  
"I'll show you dignity," He purred. Her cat seemed to practically roll its eyes and hop off Blaise's shoulder.  
  
"Really?" Blaise smirked, stopping and turning to him. Her arms crossed over her chest. "Show me dignity, eh? Go ahead." She dared playfully. If Draco hesitated, not even the cat noticed as he pulled the small dark girl against him and brought his lips to hers. The bag she'd carried slid from her shoulder to the floor. The girl managed to uncross her arms and wrap them around his neck as his lips slip across hers. He ran his tongue across her bottom lip, upon which it parted with her top lip, allowing him to claim the warm hollow of her mouth. She gave a slight moan, her eyes fluttering hazily as if her mind had caught up suddenly.  
  
Draco's tall, lean muscled form felt all well and good pressed desperately to hers, yet...  
  
Draco growled audibly as she pulled away, this wasn't play, this was more. He could feel it; it felt so right.  
  
"Draco, stop..." She managed in a tone wavering between gasp and command, and he opened his storm-gray eyes, seeing her pale face flushed, those haunting if enchanting eyes glassy, knowing he was in a similar state. "I'm sorry, it's not right." Blaise panted. It took his mind a second to process this as her lips were appearing all the more appetizing.  
  
"Blaise..." He began, looking deep into her eyes as she lowered her arms from his shoulders. "I can see you want this as much as I do, Blaise." He murmured low, moving the hand that had been entangled in her soft hair to cup her face. She gently brushed it away, it felt as though she'd slapped it. "Why?"  
  
"Dragon," she spoke soothingly, he'd never heard that from anyone but his mother. It only stung more.  
  
"How can it not be right? It feels more right than anything I've ever done." He growled.  
  
"It's very close, My Dragon. I'll try to explain it later-"  
  
"Blaise, what if I just happen to need to know now!" She glared suddenly. He released her waist. He hadn't been on the receiving end of her anger in a while.  
  
"Don't do that, Draco." She took a few deep breaths, and closed her eyes, straitening herself. "You sound far too much like your father." Her voice sounded slightly torn in her anger, he sensed a great deal of anger beneath it directed toward Lucius. Her words felt like hard blow to the gut. "I will explain what I can in time. Not now...I...need to recover. I'm sorry." She kissed his cheek and snatched up her bag. He watched her walk away, slipping around the first corner. He heard a soft purr behind him and turned to see the cat, sleek and beautiful like a statue, staring at him with emerald eyes. He bent down on one knee. "Do I love her?" He asked the cat. He didn't know why. The cat shook it's small head and looked to the window. Draco followed the suit. In one moment he realized three things. One, how close her was to Gryffindor tower, two, that the fifth year girls could reach an almost flat area of roof from their window and could sit out on it to stargaze, and three, Ginny Weasley was beautiful.  
  
~*~  
  
Harry Potter was having one of those unusual nights where the anger he'd felt last year wold return full force. He rumbled around an empty classroom after putting a silencing charm on the place he was now decimating as he paced, though in his sudden anger, he'd left the door unlocked.  
  
As he thrashed at everything so as to, hopefully, wear out this rage, preferably leaving living things unharmed, the door suddenly opened. The dark haired boy spun around, brilliant green eyes wild; before they settled onto the young woman who had opened said door. He froze, but for the heaving, rattling breaths he took, the girl seemed as speechless as he. Her eyes were painfully sad, open wide in shock but still seeming the only escape from some pain in their slate blue depths, then she shocked him.  
  
"Are you...are you okay, Harry Potter?" She murmured. Harry felt himself relax a bit, look up, running his fingers through his hair, just before he exploded.  
  
"No I'm not okay!" He found himself growling in a deadly whisper. She closed the door, the room darkening, the only light coming from a single torch. His breathing became even more erratic. "I'm not okay!" He yelled, he was ready to tear everything apart when quite suddenly, she slapped him. He came out of his daze and sat down, or rather, collapsed onto a desk that belonged on the opposite side of the room.  
  
"What was that for" He managed after a long pause. This girl, he decided, was odd. He didn't remember seeing her before and suddenly she shows up looking as sad as he usually feels and slaps him.  
  
"Your stupidity." She shrugged. Harry stared angrily at this strange girl. "Though mostly because you were about to thrash this place more than you already have."  
  
"You know nothing about me." He scoffed.  
  
"I know more than you think." She chided him wisely. "This is ironic, really, as the way I got to know so much about you is what I originally was just off to get rid of before they fell into the wrong hands. These fell through an interdimensional portal someone accidentally created under my bed in Durmstrang a year or so ago." She shrugged a bag from her shoulder, and pulled out five books, Harry's brilliant green eyes widened. He picked up 'Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire' carefully, and flipped through it, feeling the gaze of this girl on him the whole time. His brain swirled sickeningly around this entire idea.  
  
"This JK Rowling person has apparently made quite a lot of money on these books." She said, snapping him out of it. "You can have them, but never let anyone else see them, maybe it's just being in Slytherin, but I'm rather paranoid." She explained.  
  
"You-you're in Slytherin?" He stammered. A Slytherin had asked him if he was okay? A Slytherin had, had such heartbreak in her eyes? A Slytherin had slapped him-okay that last one was believable but still.  
  
"Yes, we were both sorted six years ago, I was the last one, Blaise Zambini, nice to meet you outside of a hardback book." She said in a slightly amused tone.  
  
Harry looked at the books. He would read them, he decided, he had to. Then his brain finally caught something again and sent the information to his mouth in a slightly strangled voice.  
  
"Durmstrang?" He asked. She nodded.  
  
"Indeed. I spent the last few years there, didn't really think much of the books until I'd remembered the Triwizard Tournament, my first year and your exploits, and when I returned here? Quite a reality check I must say to have what you were sure had to be a coincidental rift between dimensions proved to be a document of factual events. Kind of like my name in the first book." She smiled faintly. Surprised as he lightened visibly. She got up. "Well, keep the books, Potter. Thanks for distracting me from my current problem, one of my current problems...most of them actually. Farewell."  
  
"Er...bye?" He managed as she left. The Boy Who Lived blinked a few times as her footsteps slowly faded away. He sat for a long time, staring at these books, realizing how much this Slytherin girl knew about him, but how all of the worst things she could have spread, they all were caged in her mind, in his, and in these books. He got up, cast a repair spell on the room, picked up the books and headed to the common room, and only when he reached his bed, did he think he had passed Draco Malfoy staring out a window.  
  
~*~  
  
You could only see her from this exact angle, from exactly where he was standing in distance from the window. It had disturbed him that he could look at a woman in such awe and, well, lust after his heart had just been torn at. Yet, there was a magnificent specimen of a girl on the roof, knees pulled to her well-developed chest, her throat bared as she stared up at the sky with dewy brow eyes. She was lightly tanned, with a sprinkling of freckles across her nose and the tom of her cheeks.  
  
He found himself ogling this vision and shut his mouth, not even noticing a shell-shocked Harry Potter passing behind him with a stack of books. She had full pink lips, a small nose and those dewy eyes, big and golden brown, like those of a doe, but tinged with something darker he recognized too well. The wind blew her hair back like a soft river of flaming curls and pressed her tattered robe against her frame almost suggestively when he realized it was Weasley's little sister. He spun around, looking for the damn cat so he could curse at it, only to find that Blaise's familiar had left a long time ago.  
  
The silver-haired Dragon let out a strangled growl of outrage and stalked off toward the Dungeons, hoping dearly not to wake up in his own bed.  
  
~*~  
  
Blaise Zambini sat at the window of her room, her private room. She had to have a private room for the same reason she had to return to Hogwarts; she wasn't safe. Her cat slid into the room in an unspecified manner, and shifted into a large black wolf, approaching the girl by the windowsill.  
  
Blaise turned to the wolf whose eyes smirked, and seeing such amusement she narrowed her sad eyes.  
  
"What did you do to Draco?" She murmured.  
  
"I found his mate." He said. She closed her eyes; her familiar whimpering in shared pain and licked her hand. She stroked the creature's head.  
  
"Who was it?"  
  
"As it usually happens in such occurrences, she's your opposite, Ginny Weasley." The wolf answered. She smiled.  
  
"I was just so sure, and then I knew it wasn't right, somehow." She whispered eyes dark. Her companion whined.  
  
"He's at this school." Her familiar reassured. "You've found the right soul once already, and you've found your own soul in another as well."  
  
"What are the odds." She growled softly.  
  
"Blaise, you know about all these things, and they don't. The odds were more against you NOT finding them." Scoffed the wolf.  
  
"I know. "She murmured tiredly, resignedly. "My pain tolerance only goes so high." She rasped, and stood, just before collapsing across her bed. The wolf leapt up and snuggled beside her, she clung to him, whispering "I'll never cry, never again, not because of fate, or my fucking father, or that rat bastard Voldie, or because my damn heart won't just leave so I won't fucking hurt anymore!" Her familiar reassured her with soft purrs as it turned into a cat, that is a cat still around three feet long.  
  
Blaise Zambini slowly returned her breathing to normal, her stubbornness overpowering her pain. She momentarily cursed her knowledge of these reincarnations.  
  
"I suppose I should look for the opposite of Draco Malfoy." She mumbled before falling asleep. Her familiar closed its emerald eyes; unaware that similar eyes were wide and awake as they read 'Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone'.  
  
Disclaimer: I do not ow Harry Potter, or Draco, or anything but this fiction's plot line and its description of Blaise Zambini. Do not sue me, for I'M-...hee hee, I dunno. 


	2. Chapter Two

Blaise strode from potions with an easy stride; a raven with startling green eyes perched on the bag she had slung over her shoulder. She held a book out and appeared to be sifting through it as she headed to lunch. Only a truly trained eye could spot her agitation. She knew exceedingly well that there was a silver haired dragon following her and carefully opened her bag, the raven perching on her shoulder as the book was stuffed into said bag.  
  
What she was doing was keeping the front all Slytherins had silently agreed to keep, and appeared distracted in her book stuffing so as to take a 'wrong' turn, and skip lunch. Still the dragon followed, and she knew he did.  
  
They weaved, seemingly oblivious of eachother until they reached an empty stretch of hall, rather openly abandoned. A single classroom, empty and forlorn save for one table, was open. Blaise entered, dropped her bag, and turned her back to the door, facing the wall that was all but made of windows from floor to high ceiling. She heard someone else drop their bag and heard their footsteps approach. The raven abandoned her shoulder for a perch on the far side of the room 'pon a single, solitary chair.  
  
Two strong arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her against a warm body.  
  
"Blaise." Draco greeted.  
  
"Dragon." She acknowledged. She sighed softly, all too comfortable in the arms of this dragon.  
  
"You said you'd have to explain sometime." He murmured. "How about we call this sometime."  
  
"Depends, is the door closed?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Locked? Silence Charm?" She ensured. Draco nodded, attempting to bury his head in her neck, which she prevented. "I can't explain all of it, Draco, it would be too great of an interference."  
  
"I have no clue as to what you mean by that." Draco sighed, feeling her trying not to melt into him. "We both want this, Blaise!" He growled.  
  
"It isn't right." She forced herself to say.  
  
"Why not?" He grumbled, pulling her tighter against him. "It feels right, it feels more right than anything else I've ever done, Blaise. I think I love you." He begged as quietly as he could.  
  
"Draco..." She soothed, reaching a hand back to stroke his head, as he'd buried his face against her shoulder in shame. "That is one of the problems," She found herself saying. "Do either of us really know what love is, Draco?" She sighed.  
  
"We can learn." He rested his chin where his face had been and looked into her slightly stern glance.  
  
"How can we learn what neither of us can teach?" She asked him sagely, her eyes as pained as his. Draco sighed, looking down at the desk in resignation. "The most we can be to eachother is a comfort until we find the right teachers." She answered.  
  
"Teachers?" Draco wrinkled his nose.  
  
"It's not a class you take, Draco, it's life. I'll explain to you someday why it feels so right between us, once you find who you really belong with." She sighed. Draco snorted in impatience.  
  
"But in the mean time, let's see how far this 'comfort' goes, shall we?" He purred, resting a hand on her thigh, only to have it slapped. "Hey!" he yelped, glaring at her as she sniggered slightly.  
  
"Limits, Dragon, Limits!" She scolded.  
  
"I'll give you limits!" He growled and pulled her lips to his in a frenzied kiss. Her lips parted in a soft moan and he ravaged her mouth thoroughly before pulling back. "How's that for limits?" He panted, releasing her, though her hands remained on his chest for balance.  
  
"I don't think I could bring myself to limit that." She smirked, Draco scowling.  
  
"That's my smirk!" He mock-pouted.  
  
"Just keep your hands modest and your kisses as short and sweet as that one, deal?" She soothed.  
  
"Of course!" He purred.  
  
"At least until you have someone else to ravage." She assured him. "And this way you can keep your mass of bed buddies as well. Just use plenty of mouthwash." Draco smiled contently as they picked up their bags.  
  
"Too bad you're not among my 'bed buddies', eh?" He purred only for Blaise to whap the back of his head.  
  
"Fine, I deserved that. To lunch then?" He offered, opening the door and bowing with playful extravagance.  
  
"After skinning pickled eels in potions?" She snorted, walking out of said door with a light smirk, if only because if they had been spotted grinning suspicions would rise.  
  
"Good point." Draco nodded, which was lucky because Blaise's familiar just missed his head on the down stroke. "Hey!" He snorted at the bird who clicked his beak at the boy.  
  
~*~  
  
Ginny scanned the shelves of the library, having gotten bored with the shallow chatter of those she had called friends last year. She sighed slightly and shook her head at the thought of them and returned to her research on familiars for the extra credit she desperately needed in transfiguration.  
  
"Ginny?" A bewildered-sounding voice asked from behind her. She spun around, seeing a dark-haired girl with startling cavern-like slate blue eyes who looked slightly familiar, and had a raven on her shoulder.  
  
"Who..?" She began. Blaise shook her head.  
  
"You likely don't recognize me. Three years ago you joined a pen-pal program? Blaise Zambini ring a bell?" The girl smirked slightly. Ginny smiled brightly with a gasp.  
  
"Blaise? Woah, a year and a half between letters and you...you look different without the furs. What are you doing here?" The red head laughed. Coincidence seemed to be flocking Blaise Zambini like an Italian theatrical comedy. Who would have guessed Ginny Weasley and this somewhat scary Slytherin would not only have been pen friends, as Ginny was made to sign up for by a counselor following the diary incident, but shared the same soul.  
  
"Don't you remember? I was a first year at Hogwarts before I was somewhat forcibly transferred to Durmstrang, that's how I knew Granger, we'd had to work together once or twice." Blaise said with a slight smile, they sat down at a far table.  
  
"Oh yeah, your dad..." Ginny murmured nervously. "Was that why you stopped sending letters?" Ginny whispered. Blaise gave a nod.  
  
"He's also why I'm back at Hogwarts. I escaped most of his control, thanks to Dumbledore." She whispered low. "But I'm here, and still coincidence does surround me in a most annoying fashion." Blaise sighed. Ginny smiled.  
  
"It's so weird talking in person like this." Ginny sighed. "What kind of coincidences?" She frowned, as Blaise looked indecisive, then relieved, then paranoid.  
  
"Well...is there a place we can talk...privately, very privately." Blaise whispered her voice barely audible.  
  
"I know one place..." Ginny nodded.  
  
~*~  
  
Harry Potter appeared deeply engrossed in his divination book, though his divination book was concealing the second book of the five the Slytherin girl had given him, he'd almost finished. Blaise spotted him in the corner as she slid into the common room with Ginny.  
  
"Here?" She whispered seriously.  
  
"What?" Ginny whispered, the noise was ridiculous in the cozy Gryffindor common room.  
  
"Nevermind." Blaise sighed, as Ginny lead her to a pair of chairs just outside the warm, flickering light of the fireplace. Her familiar buried himself in her hair and his head beneath his wing the noise was so great. Blaise found herself wishing she could do similarly, but this was Gryffindor on a Friday night, everyone was ecstatic about the weekend.  
  
"I can see how this is a safe place to talk." Blaise said after a quick spell that dulled the noise within a two-foot radius of their huddled heads.  
  
"Isn't it at least a little wild in Slytherin?" Ginny wrinkled her nose.  
  
"Once it gets dark enough we usually break out the drinks, I try to avoid it, despite how well I hold my liquor, if my tongue slips a good deal of people could die." Blaise stated as if it were obvious. Ginny blinked a few times, slowly.  
  
"We have a lot of catching up to do." Ginny scratched her head.  
  
"You're the only person I think I can talk to. I mean, Draco's great and all but guys are guys." The darker girl snorted sagely.  
  
"I know what you- hold it! Draco? As in Malfoy, Draco?" Ginny gasped, eyes wide. "You're friends with that-that-"  
  
"Slytherin?" She asked sweetly. Ginny flushed, and looked at her feet. "Virginia, really, have your brothers rubbed of on you that much?" Blaise teased.  
  
"No! I-I've just heard he...kinda...sleeps around." Ginny mumbled. She scolded the part of her that added 'Though with an ass like his I've considered jumping him too.'  
  
"Oh he does, but so does Mr. Potter, there." Blaise nodded. "Though Draco, the little darling is just one of many huge ironies and coincidences that seem to be stalking me." Blaise ran a hand through her hair and suddenly caught someone's eye, watching the eye dip down to the Slytherin crest that adorned her robe. "Oh, fucking Hell." The Slytherin groaned and took on a distinctly terrifying air.  
  
"I agree." Squeaked Ginny as Ronald Weasley stampeded his way toward them, Hermione spotting his rage and darting after him to hope fully dull the blow.  
  
"What the Hell is a Slytherin doing here, Virginia." Snarled the gangly redhead.  
  
"Excuse me, but I believe that is for said Slytherin to say." Blaise spoke in a low, polite but cold voice, her demeanor turned smooth and dark like frightening dark chocolate, the raven on her shoulder clicking its beak once. Ginny came out of her red haze that she would have readily flung at her brother and mentally thanked Blaise for not making a scene. Blaise's entire demeanor, though, had suddenly switched tracks.  
  
"You shouldn't be in here you filthy Deatheater." Ron snarled, only stopping there as a slim pale hand had slapped him across the face with a resounding smack, the spell keeping the rest of the common room from knowing.  
  
"Ronald Weasley, I have been a good friend of your sister's for two years, and just because I'm back here from Durmstrang, and just happen to be in Slytherin does not mean I am by any means one of those disgusting little shits we call Deatheaters!" She said in a low, dangerous whisper.  
  
"Ron," Ginny said, as Hermione finally reached them. "Please leave. Now."  
  
"B-but-"He stammered, interrupted again by Blaise.  
  
"Hermione!" Blaise switched demeanors again, suddenly almost sane again. "Remember me? We had to work on a couple of projects together in first year and I know your memory is still sharp enough to remember!" The dark girl greeted with a polite nod, slight smirk and in a less threatening cold voice.  
  
"Zambini?" Hermione gaped with wide eyes.  
  
"You know her too?" Ron growled. "Fine! I give! Let the Slytherins in the common room!" He stomped off, Hermione apologizing with a sigh and speeding after him angrily.  
  
"What were you saying about Draco?" Ginny said after a long pause.  
  
"Good friend, nothing more, I'm still a virgin and he's a great kisser."  
  
"What?" Ginny yelped.  
  
"Later."  
  
"Okay, wait...oh HELL!" Ginny groaned.  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
"I have to do a two foot long essay about familiars for much needed credit in transfiguration! It's due tomorrow and I've gotten nothing!" Ginny whimpered.  
  
"Really?" Blaise brightened. She loved subjects she knew a god deal about. She had her raven perch on her hand. "Have you met S.S.?"  
  
"S.S.?" Ginny asked.  
  
"It's a silly name I made up long ago, 'Secret Shadow' but it fits him. I think we can help you with your essay, M'dear." Blaise purred.  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, and I don't want it, accept maybe Draco. Draco is good, but he belongs with Ginny. 


	3. Chapter Three

Harry Potter had spent two days reading these books, and got no sleep. He read part way through 'The Prisoner of Azkaban' and had to take a break, spending the next three days in different beds, none of them, his own to ease his pain. It was only when he dared pick up the book again, did he realize he had to talk to the girl who'd given them to him. Unfortunately, he seemed to have forgotten her name.  
  
Harry picked up the nearest book and whapped his forehead a few times when it hit him. She aid her name was in the first book. He proceeded to pull apart his entire trunk looking for it, only to realize it was in his hand and had been hitting his head.  
  
"Where?" He demanded the book, and flipped through the sorting ceremony-hey! Last sorted! "Blaise Zambini! That was it!" He cried and put everything away quite contentedly. Now what?  
  
"GINNY!" The redhead spun around to see an agitated-looking Harry Potter rumbling down the steps. She sniggered, as he looked rather comical, if still physically attractive, and cute.  
  
"What, Harry?" She asked, still thoroughly amused once he'd reached her, panting. She patted his back lightly in attempts to help breathing.  
  
"Was your brother rambling about a Slytherin in the common room yesterday?" He asked her with great urgency. She blinked a few times, the sighed.  
  
"Yes my friend Blaise was-"He could have kissed her, instead, he took her by the shoulders.  
  
"You're friends with Blaise Zambini?" He asked slowly. Ginny stared at him in a state of confusion as her eyebrows wandered about her forehead in distress.  
  
"Are you okay, Harry?" She asked him gently.  
  
"I'll be marvelous if you can tell me where I might find Blaise Zambini!" He pleaded. Ginny's Eyebrows continued running hurdles.  
  
"Why?" She asked flatly.  
  
"Not important, I just have to talk to her, and please don't ask why I'm still trying to figure that one out!" He rambled. Ginny reached up and patted his head, making Harry look immediately as confused as she felt, doubled by the fact she had no idea what had possessed her to do that or how it seemed to calm him slightly.  
  
"She's usually either roaming the hallways, with or without Draco- er...I mean...Malfoy" She stuttered, shocked that her mentioning of the dreaded Draco Malfoy hadn't dimmed his eagerness. "Or she's contemplating in some empty classroom." She was ready to sit down and do algebra she was so confused as he hugged her tightly for a moment.  
  
"Thank you!" He said, releasing her, and ran off. She partially cursed him for being able to make her all tingly with a simply hug, and finally sat down to half go out of her mind in confusion.  
  
~*~  
  
Draco was waiting patiently around a corner he knew Blaise passed on her nightly roamings, grinning quietly to himself. He'd always known her general route, but had taken it upon himself to memorize where she wandered from the middle of dinner until the early hours of the morning.  
  
Dinner had just let out and the hallway was full of student's voices, laughter and footsteps as Harry Potter spotted Blaise just in time to watch her swept suddenly into the arms of a sliver haired boy. His sworn 'enemy/rival' kissed her as if she where air and he'd been underwater for an hour. The Boy Who Lived hardly realized the pang of jealousy for the shock of seeing the heir of Malfoy and bad boy of Slytherin so deeply engrossed in a girl who'd been kind to him, Harry Potter.  
  
He did however feel a spark of anger under the numb shock when she tossed an arm over his shoulder, though it died as she used that hand to pull him back from her. The spark became extremely paranoid for it's existence as the girl appeared flushed and her eyes rather glazed.  
  
"Hello to you too, Dragon." She smirked, her smirk terrifying a small group of second years greatly. They spun apart like dancers and began walking down the hall, a considerable amount of female students glaring after them, Draco's fans, bedmates, and Pansy Parkinson.  
  
"M'dear." He growled, snaking an arm around her waist only for her to slap it away, Draco pouting exaggeratedly. "Aw, just once?" He whined playfully. Blaise snorted. "Have you so very little humor tonight?" Draco drawled, as if taking a cue from his fellow Slytherin, Harry noted. He also spotted a cat that had been carefully strolling alongside Blaise suddenly jump onto her bag, and climb onto her shoulder.  
  
Harry momentarily lost his concentration on the conversation as the sleek, statue-esq cat stared at him from her shoulder. Something about this cat unnerved him, its shock-green eyes too familiar for comfort, as seeing near-replica of one's own eyes in a cat's face is odd. This, is what he missed.  
  
"Dragon, Dragon you'll put me in trouble with more than half the house who crushes on you." She snorted, her code for 'Getting me noticed is bad when I'm in hiding"  
  
"Blaise dear, I'll sleep with them over the weekend and they'll be fine!" He purred. His code for, 'sorry, I'll have to blackmail them again.'  
  
"Even the guys?" She snorted, breaking out of coded talk. They had both reverted to scary and Slytherin now and Draco glared at her, disturbing a pair of Ravenclaw fourth years.  
  
"Watch your mouth, Blaise." He drawled, code for 'That's not nice!'  
  
"Dragon, you truly are the fool." She said with due coldness, code fore 'Ha ha.' Though again the words were used in both contexts and Draco pulled her close suddenly, both of them looking like ice sculptures, Draco whispering something just audible enough for Blaise to catch. This was where Harry paid attention to them again.  
  
"So Long, Draco." She answered. Draco closed his eyes and they parted, he bowing to kiss her hand before stalking off in the Malfoy manner. Harry realized the crowd was thinning and hung back, casting a silencing spell on his shoes unnoticedly. He followed her down the halls ducking behind things, constantly recasting silencing spells over himself, not letting even the gaze of her strange cat fall on him, when suddenly, she disappeared. Five doors of empty classrooms, two closed, three open and all was silent.  
  
Harry sighed, and removed all of his careful spells. She'd known he was following her. He blamed the creepy cat. His steps were slow and careful, the first closed door was too obvious, the second open door was too bright, the next open door he entered slowly. The last two, only one being an actual door, the real one open the fake one shut.  
  
"Harry Potter." She greeted, spread out across a table that sat shoved into a corner beside the rooms only light, a large window. Her eyes gazed out said window, into the dusk, the overcast sky a deep purple as the sun turned it's back in despair having had no opportunity to spy into their windows.  
  
"Blaise Zambini." He responded, shutting the door, knowing she had already charmed the entire room. She relaxed visibly as the door shut. "I didn't realize you were with Malfoy." He murmured, and bit his tongue, where had that come from?  
  
"Don't call him by his last name, it's his only real bond he has with his father, he loathes it. I'm not 'with him', I promptly turned down his offer of a relationship, it's rather complicated." She said. Harry blinked a few times, she was being awfully open. She turned and looked at him, seeing his obvious distress. "Well I already know more about you than anybody else." Blaise shrugged.  
  
"Yeah." Harry agreed lightly, lowering his gaze. "But you've never told anyone about it?" He added, more a question than a reply.  
  
"I've tried to plead a portion of your case to Dumbledore. I've had to talk with him a lot, being who I am, what I am, who my bastard fucking son of a bitch father is." She suddenly spat the last portion, shocking Harry. Her eyes were darkened, and her cat, that damned cat, appeared equally enraged, but rubbed against her clenched first, which unclenched and stroked him. Harry sat on the table as well, and watched her slowly relax.  
  
"How many Slytherins are like you?" He asked slowly, changing the subject for now.  
  
"How so?"  
  
"Well...not-uh...uhm..." He groped for an unoffending way to put it.  
  
"Vile, sneaky, vicious, evil? Deatheaters?" She suggested, almost amused. Harry shrugged helplessly. "No one's sure anymore. Draco and I are a rarity, no one trusts anyone anymore. We actually take a huge risk by appearing close in public with Draco's background and all. The entire house is putting up a gigantic front, we have to appear all bad in hopes of protecting ourselves. Draco and I are just rather high on the social and antisocial ladders. Everyone knows Draco, but not what side he's on, and nobody knows a thing about me, they all think I just came here from Durmstrang."  
  
"Woah..." Harry breathed.  
  
"So nearly anything I say or do outside of places like this is fake. Same with Draco, and most of the rest of Slytherin. At least not as many people in the school know my name, I just have to make as few ripples in this pond as possible." Blaise murmured.  
  
"Why?"  
  
Blaise stared at him for a long time making him nervous, holding her gaze was as simple as catching a speeding bludger with your feet. She seemed to decide something.  
  
"Because of what I am." She answered softly gazing as something just past his elbow her haunting occuli half-lidded.  
  
"What are you?" Harry asked. "Besides complex." He added lightly, watching a smile flicker across her face faintly.  
  
"A shifter."  
  
~*~  
  
Draco Malfoy was not very happy. Blaise was spending so much time with that young Weasley girl. That dirt poor, muggle-loving, curvy, luscious, doe-eyed angel with perky round, no wait, FUCK-blood traitor, she's a fucking Weasley blood traitor, dammit! He inwardly snarled. What the hell was wrong with him? He was supposed to love Blaise and hate Weasley, no in-between!  
  
He paced in his private room, gripping his hair angrily. He knew he had something with Blaise, being with her made him feel almost innocent again, Gin-WEASLEY just made him feel...tingly when he saw her, and that's all he really did was see her. He couldn't torture what appeared to be an old 'friend' of Blaise's, even if she was a Weasley. Blaise was just lucky only a few Slytherin's had noticed, and he'd passed around that she was tutoring the youngest Weasel because Snape had forced her.  
  
He felt confined suddenly and burst out his door, into the common room scattering first years as he stalked his way to the door and burst out of the Dungeons as well. He stalked through the halls in a distressed and slightly distressing manner, his cloak billowing behind him his face cold and his eyes rattling between confused and enraged. His silvery hair seemed ruffled as the storm-gray of his irises swirled ominously.  
  
It was hard to watch the pair of girls together; it hurt his head. Watching them you could see two complete opposites, dark and bright, light and carefree versus heavily guarded. Blaise was icy and somewhat scary, her eyes, despite her attempts to hide such things, were scarred by the early murder of her innocence; she was war-torn and always had been, even after the first war and before the second had begun. Ginny-WEASLEY I do not call her by her first name even in my head! Weasley is warm and fiery, flamboyant and openly hostile, far less subtle despite her obvious capacity for such, and she seems untouched, her scars far more hidden, but Draco knew they were there. So why did they look exactly alike?  
  
Even physically, Blaise was smallish, elfin rather, pale but long and willowy as well, and yet she could seemingly overflow a deadly air, she was strong, powerful, scary and yet seemingly drowned in an enigma. Ginny Weasley was open, tall and...curvy, a man's dream perhaps, lightly tanned and face dusted sparingly by freckles across her cheeks. She was warm and soft where Blaise was cold and steel, yet she was guarded where Blaise kidded. She was strong but not as much physically as with her emotions, they were strong and wild where Blaise's were hidden and controlled. Fire and Ice, that was what they were, Fire and Ice, so why were they so damn alike?  
  
It drove him mad, they were a contradiction in terms they were complete polar opposites and yet exactly the same! He watched them when he could, trying to figure it out, they spoke different, acted different, the closest he'd come to similarity was in their intellect, they were both sharper than razorblades, though Blaise seemed wiser. Yet that couldn't be all, sense of humor had popped up as well, followed shortly something he couldn't define, and it made him angry. He suddenly spun around and punched his fist through a door. It was as if they had the same soul!  
  
He hissed in pain, pressing his back to a wall and letting himself slide down it to sit on the floor cradling his broken, bleeding fist. The pain, as it always had, ebbed away his anger as the blood flowed, he felt the roaring rage fizzle down from inferno to candle flame, never noticing the red-haired girl opening the window from the outside slipping in, having seen this display.  
  
Her brown eyes were wide, her brow slightly furrowed. Her long wavy red tresses were windswept from her time on the roof, her tattered robes tossed over her shoulder, beneath them merely a pair of black jeans and a low-cut gray bell-sleeved shirt. She fidgeted momentarily with a small pendant on a leather cord at her neck, an Egyptian ankh made of smooth obsidian from her brother Bill. The youngest Weasley took a few cautious, silent steps toward the figure of Draco Malfoy.  
  
"Are you okay? "Draco's mind heard the words, and somehow mistook the voice for familiar. He grunted and nodded slightly. He heard the cool words of a healing spell and felt his bones mend, the blood flow stopping and his flesh stop burning and throbbing. He hissed a sigh of relief.  
  
"That's high level healing for a student..."Draco managed, still not looking up at his healer.  
  
"I just study too much, Blaise does too, but not nearly so much on healing." Ginny said with a faint smile. Draco looked up art her, she had crouched down to speak with him, and she looked...concerned? He unclenched his fist and moved his fingers experimentally, he winced, the muscles were stiffened and his bones ached, but he'd had far worse as punishment by his father. "Something wrong?"  
  
"Life?" He offered, surprised by the slight humor in his voice. She stifled a laugh.  
  
"I meant 'why did you put your fist through a door?'" She asked slightly more serious, standing up. Draco also got to his feet, shaking his head. "Is that an, 'I'm not going to tell you' or just the way some people shake their heads at jokes or...what?"  
  
"Don't wanna talk about it." Draco answered. Ginny nodded lightly, though inwardly she was nervous, and felt as though she were babbling, and only nodded instead of speaking because she was tongue-tied. Draco arched a perfect brow.  
  
"Looking for Blaise?" She asked.  
  
"No, Just venting." He shrugged. "Out on the roof?"  
  
"Yes." She smiled. "It's quite nice."  
  
"I'll have to try it sometime."  
  
"When do you think sometime will be?" She heard herself ask. He appeared to be seriously considering this. Neither quite realized how companionable their silence was.  
  
"We could always call this, Sometime." He mused, as if asking a question. "Or perhaps tomorrow."  
  
"Ah, but tomorrow never comes, I'm afraid." Ginny matched. Draco gave her an appreciative smirk.  
  
"And after every Tomorrow is another Tonight." He countered.  
  
"Perhaps after a few Tomorrows, we can find a Tonight and call it sometime." She dismissed, and began walking toward Gryffindor tower.  
  
"Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow..." She turned to look at him, Draco Malfoy quoting Macbeth, A muggle story? But he too was walking away. She smiled faintly to herself thinking, perhaps I'll ask him sometime.  
  
A/N: Yo! The Spork here, chapter three is finally up! WHOOT! Please review, pretty please? Pretty, pretty please? 


	4. Chapter Four

"Well, truthfully..." The dark-haired girl corrected after a thoughtful pause, completely ignoring the fact Harry had practically collapsed, and was now only supported by clinging to a desk for dear life. "Half-human, half-shifter, but close enough, right?" She turned with a 'yeah life gave me a royal fuck' smile and looked almost mockingly at Harry with raised eyebrows. Said Boy who Lived was attempting to collect himself, and failing rather badly. "Something wrong, Harry Potter?" She asked, almost amused, he thought.  
  
Her eyes danced as he merely gave a vague mewl of 'I'm fine' and struggled back to his feet. Shifters themselves were nearly all gone on Earth, and those who remained were a great power when they showed themselves, and they were the reason why any wilderness was left in the wizarding world, and why that 'any' meant a decent amount, just look at Canada.  
  
"Shifter..."He gasped at last. She nodded. "Half shifter..." He gasped soon following. She nodded. "Which...Which..."  
  
"Yes, half witch as well." She acknowledged, knowing this was far from what he was asking. He shook his head violently, mostly, she assumed, to clear it.  
  
"Which...one..." He managed.  
  
"My mother was the shifter." Amusement left her. "My bastard father was the human, he's a deatheater, Mordred Zambini." This caused Harry to again loose his balance. "Perhaps I should explain." She suggested. Harry held up a finger to signal he needed a moment. She felt a flicker of amusement as he retrieved a chair and fell into it, facing her with a grim, 'ready, go ahead and shock me.'  
  
"Your father's a deatheater..." He half asked. Blaise nodded. "He knew you were a shifter-"  
  
"Half shifter, yes. Killed my mother, whom he had tricked into having me." Her eyes turned distant, and her entire aura changed, she became suddenly powerfully angry, the emotion peeling off her in cold waves. Icy strength made her suddenly terrifying, he supposed that was an effect of her shifter blood. "I will tell you my story, Harry Potter, just as I have read yours." Harry nodded, she could be very frightening, but it made her all the more beautiful.  
  
"One thing about shifters, we don't have to stay anywhere we don't want to, we just happen to like Earth, what's left of how it used to be, the powerful ancient magic it still holds, buried in time. A few small groups of us are all we have, here, and we hold fierce loyalty of a sort to us, my mother was to become a leader of the larger of these groups. Then she meets my father, she watched him grow from a young student here, but she couldn't read his mind, even in her strongest forms. Mordred, my 'father' has no spirit, no soul, such creatures are rarer than shifters in this galaxy, and we are very rare here, we prefer the further reaches of this group of galaxies, where magic is stronger, and eve there groups are small."  
  
"So he could trick her, because he along couldn't be read." Harry sighed. Blaise gave a nod, her eyes still distant, her image seemed to blur faintly between herself and a woman he didn't recognize, she was tall, long and slender, like Blaise, and the eyes were almost the same, almost, and her long hair fell in smooth bloody waves lined with earthy brown.  
  
"She finally found out his plan, shortly after my birth, from another deatheater whose mind slipped. She could not flee by then, Voldemort had caught her, as had all of his deatheaters. My 'father'" She spat the word "Had taken of her blood, and had bound her. Shifters are bound by their blood, or blood is our power, it is all we have, the tiniest drop can be the most powerful spell, or can be captured for our damnation. My blood was different, she had tried to save me, when I was young she locked away a great deal of her own mind deep in the back of my own, so she could help Voldie and his fellows no more. For this she was killed, when I was three, for her blood could have saved Voldie, but"  
  
"I'm sorry, Voldie?" Harry asked awkwardly.  
  
"Charming little name, isn't it?" She pretended to be calling a dog. "Here, Voldie! Come here boy, good little Voldie!" Harry found himself snickering despite himself. Blaise smiled slightly as well.  
  
"So, your mother had no control over her blood's power anymore and couldn't help Voldemort if she tried." Harry said. Blaise nodded. "And she was killed for it."  
  
"Yes, and shortly after my fourth birthday, Voldemort reached my father, and possessed him long enough to burn the dark mark into me, and instruct Mordred." She rolled up her sleeve, showing an ugly mark Harry had become so familiar with, but it was blurry, sloppy, and shiny like a scar, making it look blue.  
  
"It isn't as powerful as the rest of the deatheaters' marks, shoddy work. It woke up my mother's mind in my head, so when it bled, and Voldie tried to take the blood for strength, it threw him into a horror he will never admit to. The horror that really kept him in hiding so long. I had no childhood, not even a bad one, no childhood, my mind grew rapidly, even for that of a shifters, it grew beyond my mother's, it grew on knowledge that merged onto primal instinct, knowledge came wherever I tossed questions. I learned enough of life itself, of humanity, of this world. I became dangerous; my father spotted it, as it erupted over a mere few years after the mark. He took a vial of my blood. He could not control it, but it tells him exactly where I am when I shift, and if he's close enough he can disable me, or kill me." She paused and looked up when she realized the window was rattling from her aura, and that power was flowing off her like a small hurricane.  
  
"Blaise..." Harry asked. She turned to him and momentarily looked almost confused, as though she forgot everything that had just happened. "Are you okay?" He asked, she shivered, he found himself wishing to pull her to him, to shield her, but if she could not protect herself, what could he do?  
  
"When Voldie rose again in fourth year, I had to run, and run fast. One year in Hogwarts, that was all, and I had been dragged off to Durmstrang. Mordred had powerful friends there, who could keep their collective eyes on me, but he didn't see the powerful enemies he had there as well." He could see that she couldn't stop herself now, she had to talk, she had never done so before, but now she had to, he could see the human part of her now, the human part that only existed in blood had suddenly awoken. "I couldn't shift, I still can't, or I'll be found, that bastard." The human part died again, her voice was made of fire.  
  
"Because I can't die, I've tried, what's left of my mother's mind won't let me, but she won't say why. I can only take so much pain, I've taken a lot of it, enough to have a lot of resistance, but when it finally builds over that peak, it really, really hurts!" The cat was back, it had its claws in his leg, and he knew suddenly, he had to stop her.  
  
"Blaise..."  
  
"I can't...I can't..." She began again; Harry vaulted from his seat and grabbed her shoulders, giving her a light shake.  
  
"BLAISE!" He snapped, she returned immediately to normal, all composure, all lack of humanity, all her emotion gone. He relaxed. She shut her eyes and leaned back against the wall. How could she do it? His mind gasped in exasperation she was too strong, how could she be so strong, damn it? How do you do it? Harry of course didn't realize he'd spoken that last question rather loudly.  
  
"Pain either breaks you, or makes you stronger, and each time you mend you make your fix a bit stronger. Either way, you get stronger and stronger the more pain is tossed your way, you can either acknowledge it, or never notice it's there. You're only as strong as you're consciously aware of." Harry only partially understood it, but it was all the understanding he needed.  
  
"I can't compare..." Harry murmured, eyes dull. Blaise looked at him, her gaze dominant and even, daring him. He looked back at her, she deserved to be the hero tot he world, not him.  
  
"I am not a heroine, Harry Potter. I am merely another who has a destiny, I think." Harry became slightly confused. "I know who I am, but nothing else, I know a lot about life, and am good at things when the moment comes, I take things as they come and take them well. You Harry Potter, you only know what you have to do."  
  
"I can't do it, though."  
  
"Not yet. She growled. He looked up at her again; she had figured something out, he saw.  
  
"The war is coming, Harry Potter." She whispered. "It has already begun, the first battle has come and gone, and more are brewing. You are not ready now." She stood and lifted his face, pulling him from his seat; he was a bit shorter than Draco, she could tell, even though she would not let him stand up strait, keeping his face ye-to-eye with hers. Her familiar had spoken with her in her mind, as had part of her mother. She had many thoughts of how her life would go, but a new road had shown up, and just as she was good at, she had no clue what would come.  
  
'I will not love in this life, so that I will not be taught, as I told Draco. S.S. is wrong, he isn't here. I have to teach this boy, I have to teach The Boy Who Lived. I should have known the rest of dear Mother had gone into the threads of time itself, who else would have created Harry's prophecy, and left her own daughter's untold but created still. You won't tell me my prophecy, mother but I'll wing it.'  
  
"Meet me in the room of requirement in one weeks time. I will be in there a full day, I'll need to, but you must come when you will not be missed. Until then, Harry Potter." And she left.  
  
Harry Potter collapsed again into the chair. His head hurt, very badly. He suspected he would not sleep. The Boy Who Lived also suspected he would need a good sleep, and a couple good fucks before he could think about any of this without his head exploding.  
  
~*~  
  
"Blaise, help me, I'm really, really, really confused." Draco whispered in her ear, despite this close proximity, had she normal human hearing she'd have found him rather difficult to hear. Though along with having inhuman hearing, she had a very, very bad headache and every sound made her head throb painfully. This was likely why she was curled up in a dark corner of the Slytherin common room, a silencing charm to block all sounds not within three feet of her head and also so no one would hear her pained obscenities.  
  
"Got a headache potion?" She half-whimpered half-growled. Draco pulled a small vial from an inside pocket of his robes. She thanked him a dozen times and guzzled it.  
  
"You know, half the vial would have-"  
  
"I still think that vial wouldn't be enough, Draco." She sighed and handed him the emptied vial. Draco shrugged and returned it to his pocket. Blaise pulled him forward by his collar to speak directly into his ear, so her spell would cover them, as well as if said spell didn't work would keep them safe  
  
"Let me take a guess as to your problem, you've found a girl, whom is my complete and total opposite, but you find yourself, to put in a way you'd never admit, falling for her. You also are feeling guilty that just after confessing your heart to me, you're diving headlong after someone else." She pulled back, the potion had begun taking effect and she was right, it didn't work very well, but it dulled it a bit.  
  
She only half-watched Draco's mouth working silently for a full half a minute as she rubbed her temples, growling softly to herself. Confession might be good for the soul, she acknowledged what she knew of that muggle faith, but it was not by any means good for my skull. She felt as though she were going to explode, she had told Harry Potter because all else fails she could blackmail him, but now the door closing off her story had rusty hinges and a broken lock.  
  
"Y-yes..." Draco finally managed. "H-how...how?" he sounded almost indignant. She felt much better, shocking the crap out of two guys in two days in a row, mm shiny silver lining!  
  
"Don't worry about it, Dragon." She said, falling into character easily, thanking every deity she knew and some she didn't know that she was a fine actress. She had to be. "I am not meant to be yours. Let what will happen, happen."  
  
"B-but she's...and you're..." He argued, one thing about him, even when he was confused, perplexed out of his skull and rather perturbed he could still look so regal and sound dignified. She stood and bent down to whisper in his ear.  
  
"Ginny Weasley is perfect for you, and you know it." She left him to his utter and complete confusion, striding elegantly from the common room, raven perched on her shoulder, eyes and face as emotionless and cold as that of a face carved from ice. The dragon snorted angrily, and was quite tempted to follow her, when her familiar, as he knew it was one, turned one starling green eye to him and clicked its beak, sending a clear warning to catch her later.  
  
~*~  
  
"Blaise, help me, I'm so confused!" confessed the tall red-haired girl urgently into Blaise's ear. Blaise herself looked over the edge of her book to the raven who stood directly before her on the table. The bird's eyes gave her a mocking smirk, the dark girl's eyes narrowing at him. Ginny was the picture of agitation, chewing the pad of her thumb nervously, glancing around as if everyone could read her like a book, when really the only person in the room who could was glaring at a bird. Said person sighed and shut her book, or rather she book she'd had hidden in the sleeve of a potions text, that book being a muggle one titled "The Talisman".  
  
~*~  
  
Albus Dumbledore scanned his mind for the memory, he knew he had one, where was it. He sighed and turned to his penesieve, turning his wand in it lazily. The face of Blaise Zambini flashed across it. Her voice flowed from it, from various occasions.  
  
"I have no information you do not already have. I cannot aid you without harming you and myself, I am refugee of Voldemort if ever there were one, and a danger to you in every way, but I seek help."  
  
"The war has begun, and the only possible end to it is in your hands, Albus, what are you doing about it?"  
  
"I am thankful for your help and your care, but that won't shut me up."  
  
Several more meaningless comments escaped its depths. No, it wasn't something she herself had said, or was it?  
  
"I don't believe in destiny, Albus! There are simply some things life decides to stick you with." 'What are you stuck with, Blaise?' "All I know, Albus, is who I am, and a bit about life. I take things as they come and handle them like a Slytherin, for all I know I've already lived all I need to, but there is still the fact you have crap you have to do, and so does a boy named Harry Potter, and they are both closely related!"  
  
Close...useful maybe, but that still wasn't it. Albus sat back in his chair, gazing at the silvery pool. Bright blue eyes sparkled now with frustration. Maybe it wasn't about Blaise, maybe she had just reminded him of it. No, he felt sure it had to do with Blaise, and life, no, destiny, no...prophecy?  
  
Harry Potter's prophecy played idly in the silvery pool, the prophecy of himself defeating Grindlewald played as well, two others danced half-heartedly across the surface. Then something clicked partially. Blaise, sitting across from him in his office, she changed. Blaise had changed, he leaned over the pool again, amazed, slipping into it easily, diving into his own memory.  
  
Blaise was in mid-sentence, as he fell, Dumbledore couldn't hear a word of it, but he could see a hidden passion ignited, then hidden, then flared, then hidden, she was fighting it. He watched, not listening to a word while his self from that time took in every word under deep consideration. She was a magnificent young woman of steel and ice, but how could she hide this passionate side, even now it seemed to be more powerful than Albus himself.  
  
Just as it seemed she'd beaten down the furnace within, she froze, Albus, past and present watched intently, almost worried. Her eyes, such beautiful things, changed slightly, became slightly deeper blue near the center, the black line around the irises thickening, spiking in, the crystalline quality that made her irises so deep and haunting faded, leaving a smooth smoky swirling of colors. She stood differently, not the scarred young woman wise beyond her years, no a woman old beyond years, but still remarkably young.  
  
The image of the rest of this woman was like a mist around Blaise's body, far taller, but of the same elegant slenderness, smoother somehow, with long waving hair of blood and earth hues.  
  
"Albus Dumbledore." Spoke the mist, and Blaise's lips; the voice was like a silk python, cool and smooth around your neck but ready to strangle at a moment's notice. This would be the time when people notice the wings from her back, and the inhuman quality of her every action, from breathing to speech. The wings were like the insides of oyster shells crossed with ravens' feathers, black but reflecting color in odd patterns like oil on water.  
  
"Merlin..."The past Dumbledore whispered. Blaise's mother smiled lightly, a coy slight upturning of the left side of her lips that suddenly made her catlike. As if signaled by such a comparison, her ears, hidden by her hair, grew through it from the top of her head like those of a lynx.  
  
"I am Niniane, Blaise's mother..." Spoke the misty creature. "What's left of her, the part of her that I left in her mind, doing this will likely take most of me out, I will only be the faint ghost of a whisper's whisper. I need someone to know this..."  
  
Albus, past and future, were speechless, so she continued.  
  
"The four are two souls,  
  
None the same  
  
Four poles  
  
All tinted dark  
  
The storm will come  
  
The four will launch The storm will pass One set of lovers Will pass with it" The mist faded, Blaise snapped on as though nothing had passed.  
  
"Albus, were you even listening?"  
  
A/N: DAMN that one took a long time coming! SHEESH But I'm glad I finally got it out, WHOOT!  
  
PLEASE REVIEW THIS POOR LITTLE AUTHOR WHO SUFFERS RECURRING WRITER'S BLOCK!  
  
Sorry, terribly sorry but my beta reader is mostly dead, and had no time to proofread, I'm lazy and I want to post this ASAP, I'll fix the typo's I'm sure are there later. 


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